The Witwicky Heist
by LittleMewLugia
Summary: Just as Sam thinks things are about to return to normal, he faces a new threat, this time of terrestrial origin…
1. Chapter 1

The Witwicky Heist

Summary: Just as Sam thinks things are about to return to normal, he faces a new threat, this time of terrestrial origin…

Rating: Probably T, but for safety rated M for mild torture and violence.

Warnings: mild torture, violence.

Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro and Dreamworks/Paramount, not me.

Genre: Transformers 2007 Movieverse Action/Adventure

A/N Thanks to my betas Anne Clothier and KDZeal for help with the title, and checking the document.

The Witwicky Heist.

Prologue.

"So, is everything ready?" asked a voice.

Agent Simmons, formerly of Sector 7, now of an organisation whose name was an even better kept secret, nodded.

"Yes, we took notes of his measurements, clothing size, all pertinent stats." he replied. "Of course, things like blood pressure and height can be re-checked when he's brought in, but the equipment required should be appropriate, he will not have increased in height or mass that much." he said.

"The room and it's equipment has been readied, I see no further reason for delay. A team shall be sent out to acquire the subject, and once we have him, we can begin." he finished.

"And with a minimum of fuss?" the other asked. "We only just managed to hide ourselves by re-branding, and even that involved shedding more resources and equipment than we would like."

Simmons nodded: he knew how close S-7 had come to being disbanded for real, instead of renamed and buried deeper.

"Of course, the biggest issue would be disengaging the subject from his extraterrestrial guardian, but I think I have found a way around that." Simmons stated.

"Explain your method." said the other. Simmons did so, although with a pang of guilt: the boy would be the worst off in this issue, but he squashed the pang: it was always the way with S-7, or whatever they called themselves now.

Once Simmons had finished explaining, the other nodded.

"It seems sound. Go ahead and procure the subject. If all is ready, why delay any further?"

Nodding, Simmons went out to make his preparations.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

As Sam and the rest of the class began to pack up, a boy came in and handed Sam a call slip. Sam blinked in confusion: he couldn't think of anything he'd done to warrant the slip but figured he'd best go.

Sam rolled his eyes at Mikaela and Miles who shrugged and made sympathetic mouth signs to him.

"Meet you by 'Bee when I've found out what this is about." he whispered as he drew abreast. They nodded, and Sam headed to the Principal's office, knocking and then entering.

It took him a second or two to register that the man behind the Principal's desk was not the Principal. He was dressed, bizarrely, in the white shirt and navy blue pants of an ambulance attendant. He stood, extending his hand.

"Hello Sam." he said.

Sam was lost for words and not sure what to say, which distracted him long enough for Simmons - who was stood behind the door - to close it, and his companion the other side - also in ambulance attendant garb - to jab at Sam with a hand-held device. As the Taser contacted his shoulder, a wheezed groan escaped Sam, who toppled to the ground, stunned. The effect only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough for Simmons to take a syringe from his pocket, stick it in Sam's other shoulder and depress the plunger, withdrawing it before Sam could start flailing and risk snapping the needle inside his muscle.

As he recovered, Sam tried to cry out. By then, however the other agent had turned off the Taser and put his hand over Sam's mouth, muffling his attempt to cry out, as Simmons threw himself on top of Sam to stop him thrashing around and making too much noise.

Simmons and the other agent did not need to restrain Sam long: as the drug took effect, Sam's struggles weakened and then ceased. The third agent, the one behind the Principal's desk, took a mid-brown wig from his briefcase and threw it to Simmons, followed by a fake moustache: Simmons put them on, totally altering his appearance.

Then the other agent threw Simmons a blonde wig and fake moustache. He took down a stretcher they had brought in earlier, and with Simmon's help, put Sam on it, put a blonde wig and moustache, also from the briefcase, on Sam, and covered his body with a blanket. With his face slackened by the drug and disguised such, Judy Witwicky would have been hard pressed to recognise her own son now.

As the other two agents picked up the stretcher, Simmons took the briefcase, and led the way out of the Principal's office and through the corridors to the waiting vehicle outside. It looked like a standard emergency ambulance but a search for it's registration plates would have come up negative, as it belonged to the organisation that had replaced S-7.

A curious crowd was gathering, but as they loaded Sam in, strapping his stretcher to the bed, one of the 'attendants' said "Please move away, there is nothing to see here, get out of the way so we may do our job." Climbing down, the two agents left the disguised Simmons in the back with the unconscious teen, closing and locking the two doors, and climbed into the cab.

The ambulance pulled out of the school smoothly, the kidnapping accomplished and the victim, recognised by none, was removed by his abductors in front of a crowd, hidden partly by being removed in full sight.

By the time anyone realised Sam was missing, and then found the Principal had been called out of school on a fool's errand, the ambulance was long gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The Witwicky Heist.

Chapter One.

A/N thanks to KD Zeal for suggesting the surname of the scientist.

As Sam came around, he shivered. There was an odd taste in his mouth and he was sore all over. He could hear strange noises and unintelligible voices as background noise. He was cold, and he felt damp all over, as if he'd been out in the rain and been soaked. He wondered if that was what had happened, and his parents had stripped him and put him to bed, but he was too cold, the surface he lay on was hard, and he was suddenly aware that he was in nothing but his boxers. With this awareness his memory returned, and his eyes flew open.

He was in a small, sterilely-white room. There were several items of machinery Sam recognised from TV as being pieces of medical equipment. Other, less familiar pieces of equipment were also dotted about the room, and a person in a white coat moved over to them with a clipboard, checking the dials and gauges and checking off things on a piece of paper attached to the clipboard. He was not fully on his back, but on a slanted metal surface, and as he tried to move he realised he had been restrained. He turned his head to see his upper arms were held loosely to the cold white surface he lay on by wide loops of leather, his wrists were pinioned to the surface by padded fabric restraints. An experimental attempt to move his legs revealed that each leg was also restrained around the thigh and ankle, and he could feel the pressure of further straps across his stomach and chest. His head seemed to be resting on a padded rest that stretched almost to his temples ands made moving his head from side to side awkward.

He raised his head and weakly said "Where am I? What are you doing to me?" He began to feel the first stirrings of fear despite the fact that the whole situation felt unreal, something not helped by the wave of dizziness that washed over him. He was aware that his head felt odd, as though several somethings had been stuck to it, there was something with extra weight hanging from his scalp.

A woman who appeared to be in her late thirties moved into his line of sight, her hair brown and cut to a chin-length bob. She wore no make-up that Sam could see, and her skin was clear and free of blemishes. Her eyes were the same beautiful shade of blue as Mikaela's, but unlike Mikaela's, this woman's eyes matched the expression on her face, or rather the lack of it. Both her face and eyes appeared devoid of expression, and her gaze ran over him coldly.

"The subject's head is unrestrained. Rectify this." She snapped, her voice as cold and emotionless as her face, and a younger man who appeared to be in his late twenties moved over, and pushed Sam's head down, pulling a strap across his forehead and pulling hard on it to immobilise Sam's head against the padded rest. Neither the man nor the woman responded to Sam's questions. His panic rose: who were these people and what did they want with him?

He felt the woman moving around him, she seemed to be applying sticky foam pads to him, and as she placed three on his head and he felt three wires trail over his head he realised they were some sort of electrodes or sensor pads. He heard some beeps from the equipment next to him and the man with the clipboard went over, and Sam could hear his pencil making notes.

"Results." The woman demanded.

"Subject AE1 is displaying an elevation in blood pressure, pulse, and breathing. His perspiration rate has increased, his brain waves are consistent with a state of stress." The man observed, then lapsed into a string of medical jargon that Sam was unable to follow.

"That shows the equipment is working correctly." She stated. "I will continue with our preparations while you keep recording the results: stress may be the trigger we need." the woman said.

"What do you mean? What's this all about?" cried Sam, beginning to panic and pull against his straps. Once again he may as well have not spoken for all the sign they gave of hearing him.

As the woman moved to one side of him, Sam felt a stinging pain in his upper arm, followed by two more, one on his lower arm and one in the back of his hand. The pressure of an elastic strap above his elbow, followed by another similar pain at the inside of his elbow made him bite his lip, but this time he realised that the pain was that of a needle: the woman was taking blood from him.

She went all around him, judging by the spikes of pain in his limbs, she was sticking him with more needles and they hurt. More results were taken, then the woman nodded to the man.

"We will begin with temperature variations." She said. Moving a long black device over Sam, the woman then retreated from the room with the man in tow. Sam heard the door lock and wondered what would happen now.

For the first five minutes nothing happened. He shivered, and then realised it was not just from his fear of the situation: the room was getting colder. He shivered again: he could feel goose-bumps forming all over his skin.

Soon he was shivering violently all over: his teeth were chattering and he could see condensation beginning to form on the glass of the machines. Nobody came in and still the temperature continued to fall. Sam could feel whatever had been put on his skin to turn it clammy was also feeling like it was freezing, and despite wiggling them, he was beginning to lose sensation in his fingers and toes. He was feeling sleepy, and thinking was growing increasingly difficult.

He was suddenly reminded of the time he had been taken to the Hoover Dam by Sector 7, and had viewed the magnificent but terrible form of Megatron standing tall but immobile, encased in a thin skin of ice. Were they planning to do something similar to him? Were they experimenting with cryo-preservation, with him as the unwilling and powerless guinea-pig?

As his eyelids slid shut, Sam found himself too cold to really care.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

A moist but warm-feeling cloth wiped over his face, rousing him from his stupor. He spluttered, and opened his eyes.

The ice-woman and her minion were back: it was he who was wiping Sam with a cloth that he dipped in a bowl of water. The water felt slightly warm, and the room seemed to be warming up, and Sam was glad of the warm cloth-wash. This continued for a bit and the water was changed twice. Sam tried asking questions but once again neither gave any indication that they had heard him.

As his skin dried off the sticky pads and other items attached to his body were checked to make sure their grip was adequate: one or two were re-glued back into place on his skin. The man applied more of the clammy stuff – a clear but cold gel – to his face and body, and then more readings from the machinery in the room were taken.

"Again, this time we will reverse the conditions." the woman stated and once again they left.

Sam had his suspicions about what would happen, and sure enough, the temperature of the room began to rise: almost naked though he was, Sam was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot. He broke into a light sweat and could see that the condensation that had formed earlier had all evaporated. The gel on his skin was drying out, he could feel the tightness on his now-dry skin. As the temperature continued to rise he began to perspire more heavily. He could feel his eyes watering as his body endeavoured to keep them moist, but he had to close them in the end as sweat rolled into them. His hair grew damp, the surface beneath him was warm and slick with his own secretions. Sam was developing a raging thirst and wondered when this phase of whatever it was they were doing for whatever reason would end.

A beep started up from one of the machines and Sam noticed the heat began to drop immediately. By the time the woman and her assistant came back in, the temperature was close to what it had been before the testing had begun.

Once again he found himself being sponged down by the man, and once again his questions, demands and pleas went unanswered. At least the man gave him a couple of mouthfuls of cool water, whidh he swallowed thirstily.

"What a shame the alarms went off so soon." she stated. "A couple of more degrees might have been what we needed." She said in annoyance as her assistant re-gelled Sam's body and checked all the sensor attachments. She looked at him speculatively. "Maybe he needs to be severely damaged," she said "or close to death?"

"Professor Wesson, our orders are clear on that." her assistant stated. "The subject is to be spared physical damage unless all other avenues have been exhausted." She smiled at him, and it was not a nice smile.

"I know that, Lawson, and we will follow our orders, at least for _now_. After all, we've barely begun our tests." She picked up another clipboard as Lawson checked the machinery again.

"So, general stress and mild pain is a negative. Extremes of temperature are also so far a negative." she stated. Going over to a cabinet on the wall she unlocked it. She removed something from it.

"Let's try electrical charges." she said, turning and advancing towards Sam, a smile on her face and a nasty-looking Tazer gripped in her hands.

Sam would have pulled away and run if he could have but he was fastened to the table and his struggles got him nowhere. He was frightened, and as much as in the dark as he had been when this started.

He just would have liked to know what this torture was supposed to achieve.


	3. Chapter 3

The Witwicky Heist.

Chapter Two.

A/N: Warning for mention of bodily functions/secretions, and torture.

Sam jerked, his body twisting involuntarily as the Taser was touched to his upper leg, unable to keep from crying out as his stomach and his muscles seemed to try tying themselves in knots. He was vaguely aware that the charge had overridden the voluntary control of the muscles in his bowel and bladder as the surface beneath him became slick and the smell of his own excreta filled the air. Now, he reflected, with his face streaked with tears, he had not even his dignity left to him.

Coherent thought had left after the third use of the device. He had lost count of how often she had used it on him now, but did notice it was more painful every time: she was upping the strength of the charge with every use.

"Fan." Professor Wesson snapped at her assistant, Lawson, who moved to obey. The roar of the fan sounded in Sam's ears, but as the professor touched the Taser to his other upper leg, he cried out and convulsed again, once again momentarily aware of nothing but the pain.

"No anomalous readings, Professor." Lawson told her.

"There should be some reaction, I thought that this would produce some result." She said, her brow furrowing. She looked at the Taser again.

"Maybe he does need to be in some sort of mortal danger?"

As Sam's eyes opened he saw her spin the dial on the Taser controls. She saw him looking and smiled.

"Full power." She informed him. Her assistant looked up.

"Professor, that could kill a human his size." He said with concern. She looked at him.

"Oh this subject has already shown strength beyond expectation." She said. "We have resuscitation equipment, if the charge is too strong I'm sure we can revive him. If not, put him on life support. He does not necessarily have to be conscious and aware for our experiments to work."

Lifting the Taser she walked to Sam's left side.

"No pain, no gain." She stated as she began to lower the business end towards the centre of Sam's chest. "Sometimes, in this line of business, we have to take risks."

"Professor Wesson!"

The voice was familiar, although Sam had heard its tone that sharp only once or twice. Its effect on the professor was immediate, however: the hand holding the Taser jerked back when it was half an inch from Sam's bare chest. She turned to face the direction the voice had come from.

"Agent Simmons, this is a surprise," was her reply, although she sounded less than pleased. "I was not expecting you until tomorrow.

Sam heard footsteps, then the immaculately-dressed form of Simmons came into Sam's view.

"I see you were eager to start." Simmons stated dryly. He moved over to the assistant, took the clipboard and riffled through the papers on it.

"So eager, it seems, that you did not allow the boy to rest, eat, or anything else. Did you not worry about the cumulative effects of your experiments on him, on top of all that?"

"You will observe that the first condition was stress." Wesson stated stiffly. "Giving him rest and food would have lessened that stress. Further experiments on top of that would also have increased that stress. Would a cumulative effect be a problem if it got you the results you require?" she asked.

"Yes, if it was not able to be repeated." Simmons told her. "If he were to die, that would fall under that category, which is why you were given a suggested schedule, something that would have allowed the boy to rest and eat, something you seem to have ignored." Simmons looked at her, meeting her eyes: she held his gaze with her own.

"This is _my_ lab. In here, we operate under _my_ rules." She stated.

"Oh, here was I thinking that this lab was a generous loan of facilities by the organisation I work for, Professor." Simmons spoke cheerfully. "A loan that will only continue if, in matters involving work for them, you follow the rules set out by members of that organisation. I am _telling_ you to let the boy rest and eat before you carry out any more experiments."

"Subject AE1 is stronger than he appears." Said Professor Wesson. "His endurance is…impressive."

"If you find his breaking point by reaching it, Professor, you will be on your own, with no funding, no back up, and no handy way of disappearing as the organisation arranged last time you experimented on humans and killed someone." Simmons stated. "Not forgetting that you are still being sought over that incident." He was smiling as he spoke, but his eyes were steely and his gaze held hers unwaveringly.

The staring match continued for a few moments, but it was Professor Wesson who looked away first.

"Release the subject, have him taken to his rest room." She ordered reluctantly.

The assistant moved over, releasing Sam from the straps and restraints binding him to the surface he lay on. Sam was too weary to resist as Simmons took his arm.

"I will take _Sam_ to his room, and will explain things to him, because I doubt you have seen fit to give him an explanation, Professor."

As Simmons helped him up, Sam was certain he had heard Simmons place an emphasis on his name. He looked at the now-dirty surface Sam had been lying on.

"Oh yes, Professor, clean up that mess while Lawson and I take Sam to his room?"

He disconnected everything, peeling off the electrode discs and carefully removing the needles embedded under his skin. He collected up the trailing wires still attached to Sam's head, coiling them up and tying them in a loose knot. Sam could only feel a brief elation at the thought of Professor Wesson having to clean up the mess on the table, he was too tired and in too much pain to do anything else.

Simmons led him to an almost invisible door in one area of clear wall, opening it and leading Sam through to a small room containing a small fold-away bed, some storage areas, a small fridge and another door. Simmons opened this, revealing a tiny shower cubicle. He put the trailing wires in a shower cap that he then put on Sam's head.

"I suggest you clean yourself up: I will prepare clothing for when you come out, and then I will give you the explanation I promised." Simmons told him. Sam walked in and Simmons closed the door on him. Removing the soiled pants he was wearing, Sam dropped them into a small receptacle he assumed was for such items.

Sam was very tired, but he needed the shower and washed himself thoroughly, wincing at the tender spots on his abused form. He turned off the shower, spotted a small cubicle with a clear glass door: several plain white towels hung on hooks. Sam dried himself with them, and then wrapped one towel around his waist, and came out of the shower into the small room.

Simmons had pulled out the fold-up bed, and a white one-piece robe and a pair of boxers lay on it. Sam moved over and put on the boxers, then picked the one-piece garment up. It looked suspiciously like a hospital gown.

"Is this all there is to wear?" Sam asked wearily, but put it on anyway, letting Simmons do up the tie ribbons without protest. Simmons sat Sam on the bed, reached up to a cupboard above the bed and pulled out a couple of foil pouches with valves on. He then broke the seals and showed Sam how to suck the pureed stuff within through a plastic tube built into the packet.

"I'll show you where something more solid to eat is later, but for now you need to rest, Sam. But first, you'll want that explanation."

He sat down next to Sam.

"We calculated, Sam, that the amount of energy contained in the cube equalled far more than we theorise was needed or used to kill N.B.E.1. Now, some of that would have dissipated or been lost to the atmosphere, but for it to be as much energy as we know that that thing can generate, it would have burned you to a crisp. Not only that, but much of Mission City would likely have been left highly radioactive for some time to come." Simmons told him.

"Your extraterrestrial friends did give us some insight onto the Cube energy, and they say some see it as having some sort of sentience. Raw Cube energy lost to the atmosphere would have done as we told you, and if the Cube energy knew this, we are wondering if it chose instead to channel itself elsewhere and lie dormant, rather than damage the organic life around it. That way the energy could be controlled, be contained and not be dangerous."

He paused again. Sam looked ready to fall asleep on his feet. He needed to finish this up fast.

"Sam, if this is the case, we think it would have had to put itself in something it was in physical contact with. The Cube was destroyed. N.B.E.1 was lifeless. We theorise that the cube may have stored it's energy or essence within you. When this project was suggested, it was to be Tom Banachek, our Cube expert, who was to head the research, and work with you."

Sam nodded: he actually had some respect for Tom Banachek, they had parted on amicable terms. He was also feeling anger that Sector 7, or whatever they called themselves now, had the arrogance to assume they could just come and grab him from his comfortable life and do whatever they wanted to him, but he was too tired to get worked up so for now he let it pass.

"So how come I'm being tortured by the ice-queen psycho-bitch out there?" Sam asked. Simmons sighed, shutting his eyes briefly.

"Banachek was unfortunately called away, we have no idea when hew is expected to return, and unless something big happens, heads higher than I have decided that until Banachek finishes his current project, Dr Wesson continues to work with you."

Simmons leaned closer in.

"Sam, if you have any idea - _any at all_ - how to channel this energy, then do it. Discharge it or prove you have it somehow, and we can ask to have Banachek take control." Simmons urged. "I can only control Wesson so much, that woman is often a law unto herself and completely without empathy or conscience. At times that could be an advantage, some feel, but I find her attitude towards you disturbing to say the least."

Sam shook his head.

"I've had no indication of AllSpark energy within me." Sam said. "You think the AllSpark energy is hiding in me? That's news to me!" Sam exclaimed, somewhat stunned.

"Professor Wesson is assuming that it's dormant, and she's doing these things to you to try and coax it back into activity." Simmons explained. "I'll try and restrain her, Sam, but I can only try." he said. "Now, you should rest, take any opportunity you can, Sam, I'll see if there is anything I can do, but no promises."

He moved from the bed, allowing Sam to stretch out on it, pulling up the covers over him. Despite Sam's stressful day - or perhaps because of it - Sam appeared to have no trouble getting to sleep.

Simmons stayed for five minutes to make sure Sam would be okay, then stepped out and used his magnetic fob to lock the door: he did not want Sam making a run for it should he waken before he was expected to. He beckoned Lawson over.

"Nobody goes in or out of that door for at least six hours." He told him. He wasn't sure how likely or able Lawson would be to enforce it, as he recalled Lawson's loyalties lay more with Wesson than anyone else, and he wasn't sure Lawson could stop Wesson if she was intent on getting in, and the door would open to her fob too. Then again, he had an idea about that.

"Professor Wesson, come with me." He ordered. "I need to talk to you, and then I'm telling you to get some rest or I'll get Doctor Langdale to pronounce you medically unfit for duty and trank you! Your records indicate you've spent so much time getting ready for this project you've barely slept." He turned his back on her and curtly beckoned her to follow. She gave his back a dirty look, looked longingly at the door to Sam's room, but then followed Simmons reluctantly.

Hearing her follow, Simmons didn't have to check to make sure she was obeying him. He gave a thin smile. At least by making _her_ rest, he could be sure Sam would get some much-needed rest as well.

At least this time, anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

The Witwicky Heist.

Chapter Three.

The knock on his door woke Sam from his sleep. He sat up, put on a new one-piece gown, and found something edible in the fridge for breakfast, as he had been told he could eat that morning. Some days in the last week he had been given drugs that had the side-effects of inducing vomiting, or that were advised to be taken on an empty stomach. As such he had been warned not to have breakfast on those days, but apparently this would not be one of them.

He knocked back: he knew that this day, at least most of it, would not be too bad. Simmons had assigned Professor Wesson a new assistant, a man named Reece. Reece was, according to Simmons, one of Banachek's most trusted colleagues. He would help keep Professor Wesson's more nasty ideas at bay, and offset the loyalty that Lawson had for Professor Wesson.

All three had different ways of waking Sam, or ending his rest and meal times. Professor Wesson tended to just walk in and grab him by the wrist or arm, Lawson would knock and then walk in, jerking a thumb towards the lab, and Reece would knock, and then wait for Sam to either invite him in, or wait for Sam to come out. Then he would ask Sam if he's slept well, enquire about his general health, and then politely ask Sam to come into the lab.

Sam had tried to escape from the lab once but Reece had pulled out something that resembled a Taser and dodged around to catch Sam's legs with it. It didn't hurt like a Taser, to Sam's relief, but the affected leg went numb and refused to work, and Sam had fallen. Sam had been taken to the table and five minutes later the numbness wore off and his leg began working again, but by then he was strapped down again.

When Reece had been called away, Professor Wesson had made it _very _clear how displeased she was with his escape attempt, and Sam decided that it really wasn't worth it. He'd wait a while till their guard was down, and then try again.

Sam liked Reece, and indeed his presence did seem to curb the Professor's nastier tendencies. The problem was that Simmons had obviously managed to pull just a few strings, for Reece was often unable to stay for a whole day. He had explained to Sam that he had other projects he needed to be around for, and Sam could understand that, but Professor Wesson took his presence as either a challenge, or a question of her competence. She was always polite and respectful when he was there, but when he left, she would often launch into a stream of invective about both Reece and Simmons. What Sam really hated was the way she would take out her frustrations on _him_. She couldn't ever be described as _gentle_, but she was rougher than usual, and did worse things, once he'd gone.

He opened the door: Reece greeted him with a smile.

"Did you sleep well, Sam?"

"Yes thanks."

"How are you?"

"Okay I guess."

"Would you like to come through to the lab, Sam?"

"Okay." Like he really had a choice.

The daily ritual over, Sam followed Reece and got up onto the table. The sensor pads were attached, the wires on his head clipped to the relevant points on the EEG machine, and the straps were fastened around his limbs, head, and body.

"We're going to try a new drug today, Sam." Reece said as Professor Wesson approached with a syringe. "This one should mainly make you feel more relaxed. You might see a few odd things, hear things that aren't there, but I'll be monitoring, so if your readings change noticeably, we'll act as fast as we can and try and bring you down gently."

Sam knew what Reece was referring to: one of the drugs he'd been given earlier in the week had been very hallucinogenic, and Sam had seen and heard things he'd only ever seen the like of before in his nightmares, and hoped he'd never see again. Professor Wesson hitting him and telling him to shut up hadn't really helped either, although Reece had stopped _that_ by grabbing and holding her wrist after her second stinging slap. Once he'd come down from that he'd had to rest and sleep for the rest of the day. Twice he had woken screaming from nightmares.

The Professor put an elastic strap round his arm, then plunged the syringe none too gently into a vein: Sam winced. For a moment, he felt nothing, then the voices of Reece, Lawson and Professor Wesson seemed to take on an echoing quality. He felt as if he were floating, giggled a bit. Some of his memories started to replay themselves in his head…running along the roof in Mission City, smacking the flare against the wall to ignite it…Cycling frantically down the street and colliding with Mikaela, while Bumblebee was in watchful and protective pursuit…Taking the decision to thrust the cube into Megatron's chest rather than Optimus'…

Briefly and abruptly the images changed. Memories, but Sam was not at all certain if they were his, in fact, he _knew_ they were _not_ his.

_Various figures, almost all of whom he recognised as having Sparked, coming forwards with empty bodies to receive new Sparks in for them to rear…the pain of a forceful interface, taking knowledge and an ability he was unwilling to grant…The gee pressures of a launch, and then the subsequent uncountable years of weightlessness in space…The landing on a planet that was just beginning to flourish with an unfamiliar kind of life…The construct that had risen around him, the tapping of his power…Then the shrinking, the removal from the structure, then the chase through the city, held by one of the unfamiliar, 'organic' life forms…The painful but necessary transfer from an inert vessel to one with a life of it's own…_

As the memories that were not-his began to fade, Sam could hear the voices of the three researchers talking

"… Just a blip, but that was Cube energy!" That was Reece's voice.

"That's the first positive reaction the subject has displayed since we got him here." Even if the voice hadn't been female, Sam would have recognised Professor Wesson's detached speech mode.

"How about we try that again?" The third voice was Lawson's by a process of elimination. "More of the drug?"

"That would be dangerous, that drug is still in the test stages. No, I will contact Simmons, we can ask him what the next step should be. If need be we can repeat the experiment tomorrow." That was Reece again. Sam heard footsteps, heard the lab door swoosh open and then close again.

"That Reece! He acts as if he owns this place!" Professor Wesson was sounding off again. "This is _my _project _my_ lab, and _my_ subject!"

She walked over, looked down at Sam, her features tight with anger, the corners of her mouth turned down, a crease in the middle of her forehead and her hard, cold eyes making her otherwise attractive visage ugly.

"To _hell_ with him!" she spat. "He's not telling_ me_ what I can do in my own lab! The moment Banachek hears, they'll take this project off me and_ he'll_ get recognition for work_ I_ should be allowed to do!"

Her voice suddenly went syrupy sweet.

"If _I_ get the results, however, they'll have to let _me _continue." she said, The frown left her forehead, and she smiled. She put a hand on Sam's cheek gently, and Sam was surprised: it was the only gentle touch he'd ever received from the Professor.

As such, it was slightly scary.

She dropped her hand, spun from him, and walked out of sight, still muttering things about Banachek, Simmons, and Reece, none of which sounded particularly complimentary. He heard drawers opening and shutting, metal clinking, a crunching noise, an ominous silence. He heard her footsteps as she approached, and as she came into his area of sight, he saw she was holding another syringe.

"Just a little more…" she breathed, stooping and repeating the elastic strap and syringe treatment, this time in his other arm, and no more gently than the first time.

This time Sam saw no memories, either his own or anyone - or any_thing_ - else's, but he saw dazzling colours, and heard phantom sounds, although throughout it all he could hear Professor Wesson and Lawson talking, and he realised they didn't sound happy. It seemed they were not getting the readings they had hoped for.

"The Cube energy was there last time, where IS it!"

He heard footsteps, and then a stinging backhanded slap jolted him out of the floating fuzzy world of colour he was in. Confused, his eyes fought to focus. Professor Wesson stood by him, her cheeks red, her expression angry.

"Whatever you did last time, do it again!" She hit him again, then stormed out of sight.

"Well, if you won't do this the easy way, it'll have to be the hard way!" she said. He heard more clanging, doors and draws opening. She stepped back into view and Sam's stomach turned over.

She had that scary smile on her face again and was holding the Taser she'd used earlier in the week in front of her in a two-handed grip. Her eyes were glinting in a way Sam didn't like, and Sam didn't need to be told to know that she had put the Taser setting up to full power. She pushed it at him, he felt it contact his chest, and he screamed and arched against the restraints, and through his pain he realised that this was no brief touch, she was sustaining the contact.

She did pull back, at about the same moment that Sam felt a gentle warmth start in his chest and run throughout his body, a warmth that ran down him and up into his head and down into his limbs, a warmth that was soothing and which banished the pain from his limbs.

Another warm wave washed through him, and the dizziness was gone, although the floating sense of unreality was still with him. His eyes could focus properly, and he saw Professor Wesson lean forwards to press the Taser against his chest again. This time, however, although he heard the sizzle of its contact and smelled burning hair and skin, Sam felt nothing.

"Professor!"

The voice was Lawson's and it was excited…or was it panicked? The Professor tuned her head, which is why she did not see the blue sparkly glow form around Sam.

"There's Cube energy!" Lawson said. "But Professor… It…it's off the scale!"

Professor Wesson turned back round to look at Sam, and her eyes widened as she saw Sam shrouded in the blue AllSpark aura. The burns the Taser had produced had healed, and she could see the blue haze pulsing. Sam's eyes were a piercing blue, and she could see the anger burning in them. Her smile faltered, and she backed off. Belatedly she realised that maybe she should pull down the black energy-collection antenna, and reached for it.

The blue glow around Sam pulsed twice, and then blue lightnings shot out in all directions. The nearest struck the Taser that Professor Wesson was holding and she screamed and hit the floor as it leaped at her.

The other lightnings hit other pieces of machinery, for of course the lab was full of them. Apart from the Professor's screams, there was an ominous silence, then the machines, almost as one, shuddered.

Then all Hell broke loose.

Every mechanism transformed into some sort of robotic being. Lawson screamed, and bolted for Sam's room, unlocking the door with his fob and relocking it behind him. Sam himself found some of the machines pulling and tugging at the restraints holding him down: between his efforts and theirs they got them off. By then, Sam was no longer fully Sam: the AllSpark Essence had come up in his mind and he was a dual personality.

He/they realised that he/they had to get out of here. He/they knelt by Professor Wesson's still form, searching her, taking her fob. He/they was about to drop her back when he/they paused. He/they held a hand over her face, then put her down: she groaned and spluttered. Despite everything she had done, there was still enough humanity left in Sam/AllSpark that he/they couldn't leave her dead at the electrodes of his/their creation. Despite everything she had done to hurt him/them, he/they would give her back her life.

He/they used the fob to get out: most of the machines came with them, some clearing the way at mental commands from Sam/AllSpark, others bringing up the rearguard. He/they wanted out, out of this building, out of the area, away from the sinister organisation that allowed the female organic to torture him/them for their own purposes.

It was only the element of surprise plus the front wave of machines that enabled Sam/AllSpark to get out: Some machines were caught, and others were killed: Sam/AllSpark felt every death and grieved for each one. At the gates, the enSparking of several of the SUV's and the electronic gate machinery meant that the gates opened so he/they could exit, as well as causing enough distractions so that the human boy could slip out virtually unnoticed: those who did notice him leave were too busy to try and stop him.

As it was dark, despite his white one-piece hospital gown garment, he was soon swallowed up by the night.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

Mirage blinked and double-checked the energy spike that appeared on the scanner screen of the Autobot base.

"Ratchet!" he called both aloud and by comm. "There's a flare of AllSpark energy about thirty miles from here!"

Ratchet didn't query Mirage's statement, just contacted those who needed to know and got ready to head out. Every Autobot and Decepticon currently in existence had spent long enough searching for the artefact that any of them would recognise AllSpark energy when they saw or felt it.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

When the pulse registered on his sensors, Starscream had to double check, because he knew what it_ looked_ like, but he also knew the AllSpark was gone, he had watched the human boy push it into Megatron's chest, had seen it flare and burn into a twisted cinder, along with all the Decepticon's hopes to dominate the universe with it's power.

Yes, it was definitely AllSpark energy, and that warranted investigation. Starscream called his wing brothers, and set off, homing in on the energy's source.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

Professor Wesson sat up: all the living machinery was gone now as far as she could tell, including the animated Taser that had zapped her so painfully. She stood, looking at the destroyed room, where machinery had torn itself free of the floors or walls and had crashed into walls. She appeared to be the only one there.

She staggered towards the door but then hesitated, there were sounds from outside, what sounded like shots and explosions and cries. Then she fled into a corner as the ceiling reverberated with a thud. There were two more impacts before the middle of the ceiling fell in, and when the dust cleared she peered up in terror at the silhouette she could see through the hole. It looked like a sort of head, she thought, and the two red lights two-thirds of the way up it looked like eyes, eyes that were looking straight at her. But that was insane, she figured, she was imagining things.

Wasn't she?


	5. Chapter 5

The Witwicky Heist.

Chapter Four.

When Ratchet and Ironhide got to the building the group formerly known as Sector 7 were using, it was a scene of chaos. Bodies were being moved, the odd SUV-robot was being subdued, and cracked pavements and piles of rubble showed there had been some sort of upheaval there.

Ratchet commed Ironhide to stay in vehicle mode, transformed and said "I'm friendly, I'm a medic, let me help."

The men, who had just restrained the last SUV-bot looked unconvinced, spreading out with their grapples and frost-sprays, getting ready to attack. They looked frightened but determined.

Ratchet spread his hands in a gesture of peace, but none of the humans in front of him looked ready to talk peace. Ratchet sighed: he was going to need to utilise all his negotiation skills to even get out of this without casualties being incurred, and as a medic, just walking away without rendering aid was something he could not do easily. "I am not your enemy." he repeated. "Let me help locate and treat your injured companions."

Just then, another SUV - this one just a drone - drew up and three very familiar figures stepped out.

"Stand down, stand down, he's one of the friendlies." Simmons called, as Banachek and Reece, seeing Simmons had the situation all in hand, headed for the building. Ratchet scanned it: there was human life signs in the damaged building. Carefully he moved over and began removing pieces of roof rubble. He could still hear the discussion going on behind him.

"But sir, we were attacked by those robots!" an agent said.

"That particular robot?" asked Simmons.

"Well - no, not _that_ one…but aren't they all the same? Those flying things attacked and then just as they've gone, this one turns up claiming to want to help! How do you know they're not in cahoots with each other?" asked the man.

"Flying creatures?" asked Ratchet turning. He projected a hologram of Starscream. "Like that?"

"Well…we couldn't tell much...it was dark, we mainly saw the silhouette and those red eyes - yes! That's it!" the agent said as Ratchet turned the image black except for the optics, which glowed red.

"Starscream." Ratchet growled. "I should have realised, of course the Decepticons would know AllSpark energy when they saw it as well, and would investigate it."

Banachek, who was still trying to get in through the door, looked around sharply.

"AllSpark - that's Cube energy, right?" He looked at Reece.

"The amount noticed was very faint, Sir, this morning," Reece said. One of Ratchet's metal brows moved as he turned back to removing pieces of roof.

"Faint and this morning?" he asked. "The signal _we_ received was very powerful, and just less than a human hour ago."

"What?" said Banachek. "But-" he stopped as Reece muttered something.

"And" Ratchet said, stooping to bring his face down "it came from here." He looked first from Banachek to Reece and then back again. "I think it might be a good idea if you told me what's been going on. While we work at clearing this building and rescuing trapped people, of course." he said, rising again and lifting chunks of building again.

Reece looked at Banachek, who grimaced but nodded. "I guess we should, but you're gonna be pretty mad at us." he said. He briefly outlined the whole plan, from the drafting of it to the kidnapping and the subsequent attempts to stimulate the suspected energy from Sam - although they did _not_ describe said methods, that would be explained later. Once they'd finished explaining, Ratchet looked at them hard.

"It is not _me_ you should be worried about getting mad at you." stated Ratchet. "It is the boy's parents, particularly his mother." Ratchet recalled something.

"One of the first thing Sam warned us was about one of his parents. He told us that his mother "has a temper." the medic stated.

By this point Ratchet had cleared enough debris so that Banachek, Reece, and Simmons could get in. He had rescued several injured humans in the process, handing them gently down to the willing hands that waited to receive them.

"My scans indicate there is another human who seems unhurt in the undamaged small room to your right." Ratchet stated.

"Thank God! Maybe Sam had the sense to stay in his room!" breathed Reece. Banachek found the door locked, but he had a key fob that would override it, and went in after opening the door.

It wasn't Sam they found cowering on the bed: it was Lawson. Banachek and Reece both told him to calm down, then got him to recount his story. As he described how Professor Wesson had explicitly disobeyed Simmon's and Reece's orders, Banachek's face grew hard.

"Where is Professor Wesson now?" he said in a low but angry voice.

"She-she was attacked, somewhere back in there…by the machines activated by the Cube energy." he said. I-I think one of them killed her."

Banachek went out and quickly managed to survey the room: one of Professor Wesson's shoes was found but nothing else remained to give any clue to her fate. Perhaps she had run off, Banachek thought. Maybe they would find her hiding in another part of the complex.

Maybe not.

Whichever, her career with the group formerly known as Sector 7 was ended.

They went back out, taking Lawson with them and then told Ratchet the parts they hadn't told him earlier. Ironhide came out of alt-mode for this too, and was so incensed at Sam's treatment that he fired his cannons twice into the air to vent his feelings. Ratchet wasn't exactly calm either, but his training as a negotiator meant he could hide the anger he felt. Getting angry would not help any of them, and least of all Sam.

"I suggest we wait here until those I have called get here." Ratchet said. "Then we can go and look for Sam." He nodded as Bumblebee pulled up. "And here they are."

"Do we need anyone else? After all, I _am_ the S-7 Cube expert." Banachek said.

"We all have knowledge of the AllSpark too, but Bumblebee is our specialist, as he is a Sensitive and can thus communicate with the Essence."

"Okay." said Banachek, who then arched an eyebrow as Judy and Ron Witwicky got out of Bumblebee.

It seemed they had been briefed on the situation, for Judy said "Where's that Wesson bitch!"

"She's missing, presumed dead at the moment." Banachek said.

"Then where's that assistant chap of hers?" Judy fumed. Banachek and Reece both indicated Lawson, who watched in a sort of daze as Judy marched up to him. There was a sound like a rifle shot and Lawson dazedly put his hand up to his sore reddened cheek: Judy had given him a fearsome slap.

Simmons grinned broadly. "Good on you, Mrs W, I've been longing to do that to him for a while now!"

Judy spun around to pin him with a glare.

"_You! _She spat, and before he realised it, she was before him and then gave him an equally head-ringing slap. He put his hand up to his cheek, his eyes wide.

"What was _that_ for?" he asked in an injured tone of voice.

"Kidnapping my son - twice-, condoning experiments on him and his car, taking me and my husband, and pulling up my rose bushes! In fact, you can have another one for that!" she said, raising her hand again.

Ron stepped forward, grabbing her hand.

"Judy dear, I think we're missing the point of being here, which is to go with these - people - and find our Sam."

Judy lowered her hand.

"Okay." she said reluctantly. "Let's get ready and go then."

Banachek cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry Mr and Mrs Witwicky, but I really can't condone taking civilians on this mission. We'll get your son back to you, but you should wait here for us."

Ratchet chuckled as Judy gave Banachek a baleful glare.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but Mr and Mrs Witwicky are not mere civilians: they too are specialists in a very narrow field." Ratchet told him.

"In _what_? Slapping?" asked Simmons sarcastically. "Or maybe dog walking, or in lawn-laying?" Now Ron and Judy were both glaring at Simmons.

"You're the Cube specialist, coming along because the AllSpark Essence seems to have rehoused itself in Sam?" asked Ratchet.

"Yes." said Banachek looking confused.

"Well, these two are the leading world experts on _Sam_ - the AllSpark's new vessel - they are the _only_ two who have been with him since his existence began. I think that makes them uniquely qualified, don't you?" Ratchet said.

"You have a point there, and it may calm him down enough for us to retrieve him." said Banachek. "Okay, you can come, but keep out of the way if things look dangerous, I don't want to have to explain to Sam that I let his parents get killed!"

Ratchet and Ironhide folded back into car form, and the Witwickys got into Bumblebee. Banachek, Simmons and Reece were about to get back in their SUV when Ironhide gunned his engine to get their attention.

"Judging by overheard comments from your soldiers, Sam's AllSpark power changed many of your drones into our kind." Ironhide's bass voice rumbled. "It might be safer if you travel in me: if hit by AllSpark energy I am unlikely to suddenly transform and then try to kill anyone who wasn't destroyed by the transformation process."

"Point taken." said Banachek. He turned to Lawson, who was still standing by the ruined building. "You're coming with us: you know what happened, so you have information we need. Plus, I want you where I can keep an eye on you." he said.

Lawson nodded, moving over. "Yes Sir." he said quietly. Ironhide opened his door to let the quartet in, and then the three vehicles carrying the six humans moved out.


	6. Chapter 6

The Witwicky Heist.

Chapter Five.

AllSpark/Sam did not notice nor care how long he/they walked, all he/they wanted was to get as far away from the place that he/they had been captured and tortured in as possible. He/they expected there would be some sort of pursuit, and wanted to put as much distance between him/them and those pursuers as possible. So he/they had continued walking under the cover of darkness, nothing he/they had come across striking either part of the two-part entity as significant. So he/they had continued walking, and were in a relatively unpopulated area when something very large landed with a thump about ten feet away, and he/they found themselves illuminated by a searchlight beam.

The form itself was lit up, and the figure was familiar to both components of the dual personality. One part recognised the form as one of its many offspring, the other part recognised it as a feared enemy. The conflicting information pulled the two component parts of the personality apart far enough for them to become two distinct minds again, but they were still connected in a way that made them able to function together without difficulty.

"Ah, there you are, fleshling, I have been looking for you." Starscream said. "This other squishy has told me about how she detected AllSpark energy in you." Starscream held up one hand, to show Sam the figure clutched in his metal fist.

Her hair was in disarray, her white coat dirty, rumpled and torn, and the expression on her face was comprised of equal parts of fear, anger and shock, but the sight of Professor Wesson still made Sam take an involuntary step back. Her shoeless feet stuck out of the bottom of the fist, her head and shoulders from the top, but she was otherwise immobilised by Starscream's grip, and Sam realised that she was in no position to harm him.

"There he is!" Wesson cried, struggling to release an arm from the Decepticon leader's grasp. "There's the subject, take him and do whatever you will with him. I can assist you, I've worked with him before!"

Starscream turned to look at her.

"Silence, fleshling, do not presume to tell Starscream, Leader of the Decepticons, what to do. Your fate is far from decided, although I had already decided to take this human into my possession." He stooped, reaching for Sam with his other hand. The minds drew closer together in response to this new threat, as Sam took another step backwards.

Starscream's grab missed, as a result, and as he went to make another attempt, the two personalities merged again. Sam/AllSpark made a sweeping motion with his/their arm, and Starscream suddenly found himself flying back by ten feet by a firm but not painful thrust of invisible force against him. He landed on his back, and rolled to his front with frightening speed.

For a moment, he looked as if he were going to charge forwards and make another grab for him/them, and AllSpark/Sam got ready to knock him back again if it became necessary, but Starscream seemed to have second thoughts about it. Instead, he stopped and crouched again, but made no overtly threatening moves.

"So, human, it seems that what this other squishy says is true." Starscream said, addressing Sam. "You have something of the AllSpark in you. It used to be that only Sensitives could communicate with the AllSpark Essence, but I do not know if that is the case here. Can you, Witwicky-human, speak on the AllSpark's behalf, or translate for it?" he asked.

The dual mind answered through Sam's mouth, although the voice didn't sound exactly like Sam's own.

"Say what you wish and we will understand, for we are one." He/they said.

Starscream nodded. "Well, direct communication does make most things easier." He said.

"What are you doing? Can't you stun him or subdue him somehow?" Wesson asked. "Don't you want to control the energy he possesses?" Now that Starscream was crouched, she was close enough for AllSpark/Sam to see the crazy-light was back in her eyes, brighter than before, and that scary smile was back on her face.

The Sam portion reflected that if she had been half-mad before, then her latest experiences had stolen the last of her sanity.

Starscream turned his head. "Shut up." He told her. Then he turned back to AllSpark/Sam.

"Come with me, human, AllSpark Essence, or whatever you call yourself now. With your power and my planning, we could take over the Universe." Starscream said coaxingly. "You could rule over a multitude of worlds, populate them with our kinds of life, with me by your side. We would have such _power_, the power over who would prosper and who would perish. Think about it! Wouldn't you _like_ that?" Starscream asked.

"No, we would not." AllSpark/Sam stated. "We exist to bring life, not death. Of course, death is an essential part of life, but that is not our function. The quarrel between Decepticon and Autobot is regrettable, but we will not destroy for either side." He/they looked at him. "You are holding us up. Please leave." He/they turned to go.

"Wait, _wait_! What about _creating_?" Starscream said. "If you just leave, how do we Decepticons create new members of our own kind? Will you doom us to extinction?"

He/they turned back.

"No, that would not be fair. We shall distil some of the energy into a form that can be used to create new life, for you to take and use, although it can only be used to create new Sparks, and the amount will be limited and regulated by us." He/they said.

He/they crouched and held his/their hand six inches above the ground. Blue-white light flared under the hand, too bright for Starscream and Wesson to look at, both averted their faces from it. Starscream turned back as his skin-sensors told him that the light was dying down, and stared at what had formed in its place.

"That looks like – a miniature AllSpark." Starscream said quietly, looking at the six-inch-high silvery cube that lay on the ground.

"It is shape you will be familiar with." AllSpark/Sam stated.

"How will it work?" Starscream asked. "How do we use it?"

"Put your hand on it and decide you want a Sparkling." Stated AllSpark Sam.

"Will it work?" Starscream asked.

"Try it." Said AllSpark/Sam.

Starscream shuffle-hopped forwards and put one finger on the small Cube. It looked ridiculously small under the big digit, but Starscream

shuttered his optics. For a moment, there was only silence, even Professor Wesson wasn't struggling or trying to speak, her eyes fixed on the tiny Cube.

There was a crackle of blue lightning that struck a spot three feet from the cube. A blue glow swiftly formed, pulsing as the Cube's energy fed into it. Then the glow faced, leaving in it's place a tiny little robot only about five foot high. It was lying on its back. The little wings and canopy, although unearthly in design, made it quite obviously that the little one was a flier. Tiny red optics opened and the small mechanism began to chirp and click and whirr.

Starscream's face visibly relaxed, the light in his optics dimmed slightly. He made several clicks and chirps back at it, then used his free arm to first pick up the tiny cube and place it in a small compartment built into his chest. Then he reached out and scooped up the small flier carefully, cradling it possessively to him as AllSpark/Sam turned to walk away. Starscream regarded the little mech tenderly for a few moments before opening the canopy of his cockpit and slipping the small Cybertronian inside. It was a slightly tight fit but he managed it.

He took off, leaving AllSpark/Sam to continue on his/their way. Then he heard a voice speaking from his other hand. It was Wesson.

"Was that a new Cube he created?" she asked.

"Yes, it was." He said, finding himself in an amiable mood.

"You said you were a scientist?" she said, recalling that this had been mentioned. "Perhaps we can examine it in your lab-you do have a lab?" she asked.

"Why yes, indeed I do." He said, wondering if the squishy might be able to be trained to help out in tasks in his lab where her small hands and dexterity might indeed be an asset. Her, and his new Sparkling of course. He would bring the mech up to know science and to thirst for the knowledge it could bring.

Wesson shifted in his hand again.

"I could help with your studies, I've done some practical research, I even awoke the power in the subject, that's why you got that cube. But you know what? I bet Reece and Banachek will get all the credit for that!"

"You'll get credit for anything you do with me, don't worry." Starscream soothed.

"We can study that cube, and the little machine it created." Mused Wesson to herself, not noticing Starscream's expression darken as she mentioned the Sparkling. "I wonder what discoveries could be made about that small flier? If it gets damaged, you can make another one. What do you think?" she asked Starscream brightly.

"I think I've had enough of your prattle, fleshling animal." Starscream said, opening the fingers of his hand. Wesson screamed as she suddenly dropped. Starscream was quite high up, and her scream tailed away, ending abruptly as she hit the ground below, the impact killing her instantly.

"_Nobody_ threatens my new Sparkling." He said, touching his canopy lightly. The human woman was no great loss. She had had her uses, in telling him about Sam, and how she'd prompted the awakening of the Essence, but that had been all. In the end she hadn't even been an entertaining diversion.

Starscream turned his attention towards getting the Sparkling and the mini-AllSpark back to his Base, and his wingbrothers.


	7. Chapter 7

The Witwicky Heist.

Chapter Six.

A/N: Thanks to KDZeal's story "Part Of None" for a major part of gestalt theory.

"How much longer do we have to wait?" Judy asked in annoyance.

"Simmons said he was diverted to investigate reports of a body." Bumblebee said. "There were also reports of somebody falling from the sky, so he should be able to tell us what's going on soon."

"Here they come now." said Ron, who had recognised Ironhide's and Ratchet's distinctive alt modes. At that point, Bumblebee's radio crackled to life. Ironhide's unmistakable voice spoke.

"A recovery team from Simmons and Banachek's organisation is being sent out. The remains were not immediately recognisable, but associated paraphernalia suggests that they are the remains of the missing researcher, Professor Wesson."

"Drat." said Judy. "I had hoped to kill her myself."

"Okay Ironhide." Bumblebee replied. "We continue on?"

"Yes." said Ironhide.

Three brief pulses of AllSpark energy had helped Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Ironhide narrow down their search area to a narrower area, but since then there had been no further indications as to where Sam was, they had aimed to head for the area the pulses had originated at - they had all occurred in the same place - and then try to track Sam from there, all going different directions if need be, unless they got further information or indications of his location.

It was fifteen minutes before they reached the location. Two cracked indentations in the asphalt were identified by Ratchet as impact foci from two Cybertronian feet landing there. All the evidence pointed to Starscream as being the mech in question who had landed here. By now, there was no sign of Sam or Starscream. Bumblebee turned on his scanners.

"Ahead of us! There's a human with traces of AllSpark energy about him! It's Sam, it has to be!" he said, starting his engine again and accelerating, Ironhide and Ratchet following closely behind a moment later.

"Be careful, Bumblebee, if he's had a run-in with Starscream, he may be extra wary of sudden approach." Ironhide cautioned him.

A few moments later, they could see Sam ahead, slightly illuminated by their headlights. He was currently unaware of their presence. The humans got out and the Autobots converted to their 'bot form. Simmons and Banachek walked forwards, Lawson following awkwardly in tow before either Ironhide, Bumblebee, or the Witwickys realized.

"Heya, Sam, how you doing, kid?" Simmons announced as he strode towards the teen with a friendly smile on his face.

Sam's reaction was an abrupt turn, hands raised, slightly crouched, as if he were anticipating an attack. Then he raised one hand towards Simmons, Banachek and Lawson. Simmons was suddenly sent flying through the air to land ten feet away with the wind knocked out of him, while Banachek and Lawson abruptly found they couldn't advance any further.

Sam backed away, watching everyone warily, as Bumblebee said "Nobody move!" The Autobot scout turned his head to where Banachek and Lawson were futilely trying to push against the invisible barrier ahead. "Stop it, both of you." He looked to where Simmons was trying to get up. "Stay down. He's frightened of you."

"How do _you_ know? Your special connection with the Cube-energy?" asked Simmons disparagingly.

"Simmons, don't be an ass, the kid's body language makes that quite obvious." Banachek said quietly. Simmons looked about to argue the point but Banachek gave him a look and he subsided. Banachek looked back towards Sam. During the NBE-1 incident, he had developed a tenuous rapport with Sam, and afterwards had worked on keeping that tenuous connection open, and strengthening it. It was time to see if that rapport still carried any weight.

Banachek took a step back, raised his hands, and slowly got down on his knees.

"Sam, it's me, Banachek, I mean you no harm." He said calmly. He gave Lawson a look, caught his eye and jerked his head back. Lawson took the hint and backed off further, while Simmons stayed frozen in the half-crouch he had gotten into when picking himself up from where he had been thrown.

AllSpark/Sam eyed the researcher warily.

"What are your intentions towards us?" he/they asked.

"Us?" asked Banachek. "You mean yourself and the Cube energy, Sam?"

"We are one." Stated Sam. "We will not allow you to harm us as the other did."

"Banachek, company." Murmured Simmons as he saw several of the now-living lab machines and S-7 SUV's that had left with Sam approaching from various directions. It seemed they had dispersed a little on the journey, but now that the Cube/boy fusion was feeling threatened, they had come back to defend him if need be.

Banacheck nodded slowly: he had seen them.

"Sam – or whatever you are now – I swear to you I mean you no harm. I give you my word, and my word was good when I took you to the Hoover Dam, right?"

"We cannot be sure, your word then does not guarantee your word now. You have one of those amongst you who harmed us." He said, looking at Lawson.

"He is with us so we can watch him. He will be punished for what he did, he and Doctor Wesson went against orders in their treatment of you." Banachek said.

Bumblebee took a step forwards and AllSpark/Sam tensed, both components of his mind assessing the yellow Autobot scout. Bumblebee stopped, spread his hands, and gave a small warble of encouragement, and AllSpark/Sam relaxed.

"You are one of the Sensitives." He stated. "We speak through this one now, there is no need for your translations."

"Maybe you do not trust Banachek, even Sam was rightly wary of him, but if you look in the memories of Sam, you will see there are two amongst our number whom Sam trusts completely." Bumblebee looked back over his shoulder and waved Ron and Judy forward.

"Sam?" Judy said, walking over with one hand outstretched. AllSpark/Sam tensed and then relaxed a moment later.

"You are – the parental unit of our organic form?" he asked.

"Who are you? You're not Sam, are you?" She said.

"We are one, we are together, in this body." He replied.

"Please, I came looking for my son. Please let him go." She said. "He's my only child."

AllSpark Sam put out a hand to her. Judy took it and he drew her forwards. He reached out his other hand, hesitated, then placed it on her abdomen, and Judy tensed.

"We will not harm you. One part of us cares about you, and this is our gift to you. We have learned how to manipulate organic substances in order to heal."

Judy felt a warm flush as a blue light flashed from AllSpark/Sam's hand, then it was over as soon as it had begun.

"Now you can create life of your own again. Have another child to replace the one we live in."

"No!" cried Judy, throwing herself into AllSpark/Sam's arms. "I don't want another child, I want _Sam_, I want my son back, please give him back!" She clung to him, weeping, as Ron moved over, his own eyes moist.

"Please, we just want Sam back, we love him. Give us back our son."

Bumblebee warbled again, drawing the attention of everybody.

"May I speak?" he asked. Judy and Ron nodded wordlessly, AllSpark/Sam said "Yes, of course."

He moved closer.

"From what I can tell, we are speaking more to the AllSpark essence than we are to Sam." He said. Let me use then a Cybertronian analogy. Some Cybertronians share a light mental link that allows them, for short times, to combine and function as one unit, a unit that possesses its own name and a combination mind for the time that it is as one. The Arielbots become Superion, the Protectobots become Defensor, the Constructicons become Devastator, and so on." He said. "However, they will always separate into their separate components as soon as is possible. Why is this?" Bumblebee asked.

"Because they were created as separate units. They have their own function in the world as individual units, they have their own existences to lead." Stated AllSpark/Sam. "To stay combined for too long risks the loss of their individual selves." Bumblebee nodded to show he understood.

"Well, what about the AllSpark Essence and Sam?" asked Bumblebee. "They have their separate functions and existences to lead too, even if they are, by circumstances, forced to share the same physical form. You yourself stated that the two are one. You're the gestalt personality of Sam and the Essence, but they too are separate units. Don't they have the right to be their individual selves as well?" Bumblebee asked.

"We are in danger, we are protecting them both." Stated AllSpark/Sam, looking pointedly at the three S-7 men.

"At the moment, you are a greater danger to Sam than they are." Stated Ratchet. "And to yourself."

AllSpark/Sam looked at Ratchet.

"Explain." He/they said.

"The organic form you are in has limits that you are pushing." Ratchet stated. "Sam has been exposed to the outside air, and had no food or drink for several hours. His energy resources are depleted, he is getting dehydrated and cold, and his feet are damaged from being walked on without footwear to protect them. If you do not care for the body properly, it will cease to function, and Sam will die – and possibly the AllSpark with him."

"Please." Said Bumblebee. "Let Sam go so we can help him. Let him live his life as he was meant to."

"What about them? If we do this, what if they try to take or harm him?"

"I won't let them." Bumblebee said. "I am Bumblebee, appointed by Optimus Prime to be Sam's guardian. If they threaten him, I will defend him."

"As will I." said Judy. AllSpark/Sam looked at her.

"You are not a soldier."

"No," she said giving him a steely look. _"_but I'm his_ mother_."

"Mothers are more dangerous than soldiers." Ratchet said. "They have more at stake, so will make greater sacrifices if necessary, up to and including their own existence. Given the choice between having to face a fully-powered Megatron or an angry mother, I'd take my chances with Megatron."

AllSpark/Sam looked around at everyone, and then down at the face of Judy, and nodded.

"Very well. The one will become two." He/they inclined his/their head and closed his/their eyes. Then he sagged, and Judy braced to take the weight. Bumblebee moved forwards, putting out a hand, and Judy let Sam sag into the supporting appendage.

He opened his eyes, and said "M-mum? Bee? Dad?" Then he held Judy and shook and cried. Nobody said a word, nobody made a movement, all realizing that the shock and reactions to his ordeal was all coming out at once. Ratchet had moved out and was rounding up the attendant mechs, reassuring them and promising them a safe haven with the Autobots.

"Right." Said Simmons, who had got up and now walked towards them. "There is another of our facilities close by, I'll give Ironhide the co-ordinates and we can take Sam there for Banachek to -." He was cut off mid-sentence as Judy Witwicky gently disengaged herself from Sam, turned, and stepped forwards to deal Simmons one of her head-ringing slaps.

"Sam is coming home with _us_." She stated as Simmons stared at her, his mouth open, his eyes wide and with one hand raised to his smarting cheek.

Banachek was standing nearby and grinning.

"I think we'd better let the lady do as she said she would, Simmons." Said Banachek. "Let Sam go home with his parents, Reg, we got the information we wanted, we'll have to ask Sam if he'll allow us to do more research. Till then, we should leave." Banachek moved over to Ironhide. "What do you think, big guy?" he asked.

"When a femme gets angry, the wise mech does as she says." Ironhide said. "Discussions and disagreements are best left until she has calmed down." He said, then folded down into vehicle form.

"Give me the co-ordinates of your other establishment and I will drop you off. Then I need to return to the Lennox farm, Sarah tells me I am expected to be at the commemoration of Annabelle's entry into the world, something Sarah calls a 'birthday party.' I have been informed I am not allowed to not attend."

Banachek grinned.

"Then you must attend, Ironhide. I, too, am not one to willingly bring down the wrath of a wiman, particularly of a mother." He said, climbing in the front with Simmons as Lawson quietly got in the back. Judy watched them until Ironhide was halfway down the road, then said "Bumblebee, I think we need to go home now."

Sam stood and moved to a safe distance as Bumblebee obligingly folded down into his car form so everybody could get in. Sam went in the back, lay down, pulled the seatbelts across him, and dozed off, as Bumblebee drove the Witwicky family back to their home.


End file.
